Round 7

Hera’s fingers paused at the zipper’s teeth, the sound of them parting lost beneath Halie’s sharp “Wait.” The word sliced through the tension like a knife, and Hera’s amber eyes snapped to the cleric’s face. She saw the concern there, the frustration barely contained—knew it stemmed from some misplaced sense of protectiveness over Abby that bordered on possessive. Jeane’s idea of “moral qualms” and “half-hearted attempts at playing guardian angel” made Hera’s jaw clench.

“Are you certain?” Halie asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil visible in her eyes. “Once this starts…” She trailed off, unable to voice the full consequences, but Hera understood well enough. Jeane’s earlier degradation hung heavy between them—a stark reminder of what might come next.

Jeane laughed, the sound rich and warm despite the underlying current of something darker. “Exactly,” she said, her fingers still moving in slow circles on Abby’s skin as she watched the proceedings with an unreadable expression. “We should… discuss things privately. Make sure everyone’s comfortable.”

Hera felt a flicker of surprise—this was the most coherent Silra had been since they arrived, and there was an undercurrent of something almost protective in her tone. She opened her mouth to respond, but Jeane beat her to it.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she withdrew her hand from Abby’s waist, a silent reminder of who held real power here. “We should… discuss everything. Make sure everyone understands the rules.”

Hera felt a shiver run down her spine at those words, excitement and trepidation flooding through her as she realized there was no turning back now. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever came next as she nodded slowly.

“Yes,” she said softly, her voice trembling with barely contained anticipation. “Show me.”